Tortured by Sheogorath
by Skyrimosity
Summary: A Breton man undergoes trials never before witnessed at the hands of the Mad-God Sheogorath.
1. BackgroundPrologue

Background

Rodore Gemain was once a normal Breton man, seeking a decent life in Skyrim. Skyrim is known as a land where you can make almost any living you can desire due to its vast amounts of opportunities. No doubt this is what first drove Gemain to Markarth. It was only in Markarth where he began to start studying the Daedric Princes. He studied the Oblivion Crisis and all the rumors about the Daedric Princes. He found himself always wondering about the beasts of seemingly pure evil. It became a part time obsession for Rodore, the evil exploits of these Princes were horrifying yet enthralling.

After a few years Rodore had a particular liking for Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness. His treatment of people always seemed so unnecessary, so torturous, yet always so humorous. There was something entertaining about the Prince, something comical. Sheogorath seemed a funny joke compared to Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon. But the more Rodore studied Sheogorath, the more obsessed he became. He wanted to somehow contact the Madgod. Surely there was no way. That is what he believed of course. But he discovered mentions in Daedric books about another book, detailing how to speak with Sheogorath. The mysterious book was known as Shrine to the Madgod and it took much investigating, bribing, and lying for Rodore to get his hands on the book.

He has gathered the necessary materials and now Rodore prepares himself to build the Shrine to Sheogorath and finally speak to whom he is obsessed.

This is just some background before Chapter 1. May Talos Guide you who are brave enough to read this tragic tale.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Shrine to the Mad-God

_It is nearly time. I have assembled everything the Book mentions to build the shrine. I wanted to make this one last journal entry before I finished the shrine however. It only seemed appropriate I write this entry before I make the shrine so that afterwards, no matter what happens, I have something to reference my life after the experience too. I fear I am blabbering on again. The final things must be added._

Rodore Gemain closed his journal, which he had kept ever since he started his new life in Skyrim. He only had a few entries, and while most were completely unnecessary, he felt on occasion that writing an entry was of unquestionable importance. It was a bit of a strange impulse.

The Shrine itself was of a simple design. The only major problem was that it required a four-by-five assembly of Ebony Bricks, which had to be made from about one and a half ebony Ingots which were a pain to find and pay for. Rodore spent nearly all of his money to acquire the necessary ingots. Thankfully, the rest of the things were rather easy to come buy. The only other remarkable thing about the small Shrine was that it specifically mentioned a cheese wedge be placed directly in the center. Illogical as it was, Rodore reminded himself at times he was trying to contact the Mad-God.

In order to activate the Shrine it had to be assembled perfectly and a fire spell had to be applied to each corner for five seconds, which meant the actual activation of the simple Shrine took only twenty seconds. Unfortunately, it was anyone's guess what would happen when this... thing... was complete. It was totally unpredictable exactly what powers the Mad-God would gain on the world of Nirn, whether it be power to Talk or to enslave all of Markarth. Rodore did not think too much into that however, he saw this as something that absolutely had to be done. It was something that must happen, like the consumption of food, in order for him to continue his existence. That was the extent to which Rodore had become hopelessly obsessed.

The shrine was now completed exactly to the Book's specifications. It was accomplished. He was filled with a sense of accomplishment though the task was by no means finished. He picked up the Flame Tome spell book he had purchased in Whiterun and, aiming his left hand at the upper left corner of the shrine, recited the words. Slowly at first, a power built in his left hand until a stream of fire hit the corner. Rodore steadied the stream. _1... 2... 3... 4... 5... _He stopped the flames. His hand burnt. However, the Shrine worked, or at least would appear so, as the top left Ebony Brick became a burning-purple color, completely different from its original state in appearance. Rodore applied the same technique to the bottom-left brick and after the five seconds, it turned the same color as did the bricks between the two-finished corners.

Rodore finished the rest of the corners and all the bricks were the burning-purple color, a strange power emanating forth from them. Slowly, oh so very slowly, the color began filling in the space in the middle of the bricks. As more and more of the small area gained color, the power felt stronger and stronger. As the space was filled with the purple-laden power, it became hard to stand for the very strength coming forth from the strange Shrine seemed to intensify the weight Rodore's legs must endure. It was both beautiful and terrifying, and both filled the depths of Rodore's soul at the moment.

Everything seemed to stabilize soon, and the situation was under control at the moment. Rodore finally gained the courage to speak, "Sheogorath, welcome to my home!"

It was to his surprise when a dark voice spoke back "I rather not be looking in this dump. Your living is quite unworthy Rodore."

Rodore was shocked. "How... how do you know my name?"

"Why Rodore... I know so much more about you than that. I know your a failure, I know you moved to Skyrim because you killed a guard. I know so much, Rodore. I also know you won't leave this experience the same man as when you came."

Growing terrified by the second, Rodore slowly realized that perhaps Daedra were feared for a good reason. "Care to explain, Sheogorath?"

"HAHA! I was hoping you would ask that Rodore! Actually I knew you would ask that! I know everything! You idiot! How I would LOVE to jump-rope with your internal workings, I'm afraid that's not good enough. No-no-no... someone like you must be punished."

The fear of being tortured forever in the endless planes of Oblivion crept into Rodore's mind. "Wh... what?"

"I'm afraid simply killing you would be too easy. I've actually been thinking about this for a while. Oh... how I've been looking forward to this day! You shall be the test-dummy for my latest punishment! I'm going to change you, Rodore. I'm going...", Sheogorath laughs very loudly, "I'm going to change all your senses to my liking. I will control everything you hear, see, and smell."

Before he could say anything, Rodore felt a dark energy enter into his mind. He could feel his vision beginning to lose sight of anything and the smell of thick pools of blood filled his nostrils. He became horrified beyond comprehension. "WHY ME!"

"Because Rodore, you have laughed at my previous punishments. Something more thorough had to be thought of just... for... you... Good-bye..." The Shrine seemed to destroy itself, leaving no remains. Reality as he knew it before he built the Shrine seemed to exist once more, but Rodore was losing his consciousness. His legs grew weak and his eyes grew heavy, his brain not seeming to work right. Before the final plunge into unconsciousness was taken, he felt a voice from inside his very own head whisper "You shall feel torture as you never thought possible..." and with that, Rodore fell on the floor, unconscious.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - First Taste of Insanity

Rodore awoke where he had passed out. He immediately looked around to see if there was anything to worry about, but everything looked the same as it had before the incident. Perhaps it had been a dream brought about by abundance of alcohol? No... that wasn't it. It was too real in his mind... too vivid in every way. It had definitely happened. Yet everything seemed normal. But that's the key word isn't it? SEEMED? Rodore realized at this point that he has already become paranoid. Like the young man who seeked to become Sheogorath, who was paranoid of the Madgod before anything ever happened to him.

"Don't forget" a voice, not his, ran through his head.

Rodore now remembered that part of himself had been taken over by Sheogorath. It didn't seem like that much of a deal since Rodore still had his thoughts to himself... and the voice in his head. But the voice didn't matter, it was just a voice. No physical harm could come from something that had no physical manifestation. Rodore sighed. "All this talking to myself is going to drive me crazier than I already am. I just need to relax and probably should stop talking to myself."

The voice, master in the annoying arts, rang in "Oh my dear Rodore, you are also talking to me."

At this point, Rodore was unsure whether it scared him more there was an entire separate entity inside his brain, or that said entity had the creepiest voice on all of Nirn. It was more creepy than scary or thought-provoking though. And it had already become annoying. If Rodore was long-bound for Nirn, then this voice would become a plague unto him. The though of physically abusing himself with a punch to the forehead came to mind, but there was no way to hurt something inside his head. Grudgingly, Rodore equipped his sword and shield before walking outside. He felt it improper to head anywhere unprepared, especially now.

As he walked out the door, a shining light greeted his eyes. It was blinding even. It... was... so very bright. Rodore fell to his knees, eyes covered trying to regain his vision. When he next opened his eyes, he saw it to be a cloudy day. And people glancing in his direction; glancing at the crazy man blinding by light on a cloudy day. That was Sheogorath controlling his sight.

Then came an amazing smell. The smell was so good, it was like a natural attractant for any human on all of Nirn. It was sensationally making his brain excited. The food would be his. He followed the smell as far as he could but could not locate it. Then the smell of garbage replaced it. But there was no garbage nearby. Sheogorath felt it playful to mess with his sense of smell.

Then the buzzing and ringing sounds filled his ear and were deafeningly loud. Rodore's face cringed in pain at the loud sounds in his ear. Sheogorath was just messing around now. It was all a joke. Rodore's pain, the twistedness of his brain. All a joke to the Madgod. The sound went away and Rodore was a melting pot of all kinds of emotions. Anger, Fear, Despair, Depression... everything. And all these emotions were part of a sick joke. Just a sick joke. Suddenly Rodore got sleepy. He felt like just lying down on the spot and drifting off to another world. One where he wouldn't have to deal with these things. The world of Dreams.

Rodore stumbled into his house, extremely tired. He fell into his bed and fell quickly asleep. He only didn't realize that he would never find a sanctuary.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Sanctity in the Mind

The dream world had always been a place of solace for Rodore, even through his hardest times. Oftentimes the dream world was a place where the worries of the real world disappeared and were replaced by better things. Dreams were a good thing for Rodore. It helped him to escape the dark reality of his normal life via distractions and illusion. Sleep was, after all, one of the few safe havens in a world of turmoil.

His mind put him in a forest, of large green trees and many animals. Rodore felt something different though. Even though he could normally remember dreams, this time it felt like it was real. He felt he was in control and everytime he took a step, it would feel real. Rodore had read about these types of dreams before but never had one. He wondered if this had anything to do with his curse... but he shook the feeling.

Rodore kept walking through the forest, enjoying the sights of all the trees and the animals. He realized he was experiencing a sort of living dream, but it was still just a dream. After a while, he began seeing a few things out of the ordinary. The occasional dead animal and such. Rodore had naturally assumed the dream was just realistic.

It wasn't long before he saw smoke rise. Not long after that, he saw the flames. Rodore began to run as fast as he could away from the fire but the blaze spread ever faster. Soon it was right behind him. The forest fire burned all behind Rodore and just as the flames engulfed him in fiery doom, the entire world changed to black.

The sound of maniacal laughter filled the black void Rodore had been transferred to. Next, strange noises filled the air. It sounded like hisses, growls, and every other beast-like noise combined into one spine-tingling noise devised directly from some spawn of all evil. Rodore felt he had lost his mind. Then he saw It.

A creature came forth that was extremely frightening. It had the basic body shape of a human, though there the similarities ended. Its mouth seemed to have no jaw, as it could open its mouth to obtuse angles. It had many sharp teeth aligning its mouth. There were scars upon its body.

Then the voice of Sheogorath whispered to Rodore "The anguished soul of a tortured man. I've kept him in good shape, I do believe. Look at those leg muscles, so strong as they prepare to charge you and help tear you apart. What will you do Rodore! Die!"

The creature charged and Rodore drew his sword. He didn't know what to do to defeat the creature so he fended it off as it attempted to grab him in order to devour him. After a minute, Rodore stabbed it in its mouth and the beast cried in anguish. It was slain.

Three more appeared before him, seemingly out of thin air. They worked in what seemed like a pack. These had one spiked arm which it used to slash and stab at Rodore. Rodore let his sword flow as he dispatched the creatures in much the same way as the other creatures.

Rodore was proud of himself, and yelled out loud "Is that all you can send before me, oh Sheogorath? Madgod? I will not be driven to insanity or death by you!"

The voice whispered back to him "Surprise."

All of a sudden, Rodore was awake. He was standing in a street in Markarth, blood covering his clothes and a sword in his hand. As he looked down before him, he saw four dead bodies. One was a woman, without a weapon to defend. The other three had been young guards, swords in hand.

As Rodore stood in shock, more guards quickly approached. Some yelled at Rodore, and pointed towards him, "That is him! That is he who murdered without cause and killed those would seek justice upon him!"

That irritating voice said this time "Run Rodore. But you can never escape. How careless of you to let this happen."

Rodore stood there, in shock, as the guards were nearby. The window to leave was nearly closed and as such, Rodore started running. To where, he did not know. But it would be away from Markarth.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rodore sat near the small fire he managed to create, barely on the inside of Sunderstone Gorge. The cold gripped his skin and he had goosebumps on his body. Even though he knew the flames spell, it wasn't much for keeping warm if there was no wood around.

He was exhausted after the run from the guards back in Markarth. Never before had Rodore run as fast as he did then, nor has he ever run for as long. Certainly, he has never felt more fear or more guilt. A gust of wind came suddenly and Rodore braced himself, his body enduring another burst of cold air.

Rodore had decided soon after leaving Markarth to go to Morthal. Admittedly, he had no idea why he that was where he chose to run to. He knew there would be an inn there but that was true of every city. Finally he realized that Morthal is one of the quieter cities, less likely to have guards running around looking for him. A perfect place to begin trying to figure out how to save himself. Still, Rodore had just figured out why he was heading to Morthal so he wasn't sure why he was already on his way.

The sound of a carriage nearby brought Rodore to full attention. He stealthily crept towards the entrance of the cave and peeked out. A man and woman were driving a carriage down the road. Rodore could only imagine what they had with him. "Food, clothing... food." Rodore was starving after his run and had nothing to eat. These people probably did. In fact, he was sure of it.

He used the bound bow spell he had memorized many years ago for the first time since he thought he'd need it. For a split moment he contemplated what he was going to do. But that was only a moment, before the cold hit him again and his stomach growled once more. As the carriage grew ever nearer, he prepared his ambush.

When the carriage was within striking distance, Rodore fired an arrow. It struck the man in the chest, critically wounding him. The woman let out a blood curdling scream before seeking out her husbands attacker. The husband gurgled out a few quick words and the woman ran, ran down the road in the direction from which he came.

The horses, strangely, did not panic and run.

Rodore approached the injured man, who struggled to survive. After but quick moment of the two staring at each other, Rodore drew the other man's sword and slit the man's throat. Without a moment's hesitation, Rodore was in the back of the carriage sorting through the packages.

After nearly half an hour, Rodore had carried the man's clothes, a box of mead, a bedroll, and various fruits back to the cave. The clothes were a bit big, but better suited for the cold weather at present. Rodore put on some of the heavy clothing and warmed up a bit.

A thought ran through his head. "I have just murdered an innocent woman and an innocent man! And for what! To stay a little bit warmer, to have a little bit of food! What have I become?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, Rodore? You are a monster. A murderer." Sheogorath's taunting voice made Rodore feel more depressed. "You just murdered a man and a woman! And I didn't trick you this time! Another minute and you would be skipping rope with their intestines." A chuckle filled Rodore's head.

Rodore yelled, for all to hear, "YOU caused this. YOU did all of this to me. NONE of this would have EVER happened were it not for you." Rodore's voice began to break, on the verge of tears. "You did this... not me. No. It was you."

The Madgod's voice said absolutely, without any sign there could be anything incorrect about his statement, "Was it really?"

Rodore fell onto the ground as he began to cry for in that moment he realized he had brought this all upon himself. The murders, the nightmare. All of it was Rodore's fault. But Rodore soon found himself with a strange sense of accomplishment. He realized that if he had gotten himself into this situation, then he would have to be the one to get himself into it.

Rodore lay down in the bedroll he had taken from the carriage and before he fell asleep, made a promise. "Tomorrow I will reach Morthal. And I will do all in my power to find a way out of this."


	6. Chapter 5

The town of Morthal, despite having a big enough population, seemed to be lacking a soul. To Rodore, it appeared to be as if the citizens were living out their lives without any excitement or energy. Rodore had plenty of excitement over the past few days. Too much excitement.

Rodore had arrived six days ago in Morthal, and originally his plan was to live a quiet life without garnering much attention. While this might work for avoiding the wrath of the law, it would certainly be of no good against Sheogorath.

Sheogorath had hardly intervened with Rodore's thoughts since Sunderstone Gorge. Rodore wondered what the Madgod's plans for him were but decided to not allow the concept Sheogorath would get his way enter his mind.

The first three days Rodore was in Morthal were terrifying for him. He grew paranoid of all the guards and stayed in his rented room at the inn. The ominous silence surrounding the town during most hours of the dayfurthered Rodore's paranoia. He read books in the room all day every day with nearly zero new leads or possible answers.

On the fourth day of his stay in Morthal, Rodore realized that the city could not provide him an answer for his unique issue. Perhaps only one place in all of Skyrim could provide an answer: The College of Winterhold. Rodore figured that the place with the most knowledge of magic seemed the best to search for an answer. Plus, the library of the College has an extensive collection of books which could be of use.

Rodore would spend the fifth day of his stay in Morthal to gather all the necessary materials for the trek to Winterhold. Rodore had only enough Septims to provide for the absolute necessities so food was mainly what he bought. Rodore bought enough so that he could travel rather quickly and to ensure he still had enough Septims for another night of rent in Morthal and perhaps for rent in Winterhold.

During the fifth night of his stay, Rodore experienced another reminder he was still under the control of Sheogorath. Rodore had a nightmare. There was fire all around him, fire everywhere, fire burning the sky. Rodore tried to escape the flame, but in his haste he did not realize what he was running into. Rodore was running straight into the Darkness.

As the flames grew ever distant, Rodore thought he had escaped. But instead, he ran as if he were a puppet with Sheogorath controlling the strings. In the darkness, the sounds of movement came from all directions. Yet, there was no other sign of any movement. The next thing he knew, cold air rushed against him and he felt terrified. Knowing there is something there, feeling the intense cold, Rodore could only imagine. And through his imaginings he created a horrifying army of terrible monsters.

Then he woke up. The goosebumps from the cold air was still in effect on his body and Rodore at once became terrified to go back to sleep. And so he sat on the bed until the break of Dawn.

As soon as the sun shined its first rays on the heartless town of Morthal, Rodore left for Winterhold.


End file.
